


Until the Day the Planets All Stand Still

by Meatball42



Series: Rare Pairs [33]
Category: Doctor Who (2005), Torchwood
Genre: Cruise Ships, Dancing, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Romantic Fluff, Undercover as a Couple
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-27
Updated: 2016-04-27
Packaged: 2018-06-04 20:18:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6674104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meatball42/pseuds/Meatball42
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is easily shaping up to be the best undercover mission Martha has ever had.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Until the Day the Planets All Stand Still

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Niki](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Niki/gifts).



> Title is from the beautiful 'My Love, I Will' by Alice Peacock.

Martha has done undercover work before, to say the least. Nearly every mission with the Doctor involved pretending to be someone else, whether that someone else was royalty from some far-off star system, or innocent, unknowing travellers. With UNIT and Torchwood, undercover assignments were far more structured, with less thinking on the fly and more sticking to a carefully planned backstory.

This mission is a mix of new and old, and as much fun as anywhere she’d gone with the Doctor. For one thing, she’s on a cruise ship. Martha’s never been on a cruise ship before (space cruiseliners don’t count), but she’d always secretly wanted to. Right about now, reclined on an upper deck in the new suit she charged to Torchwood’s account, being served another delicious fruity drink (non-alcoholic, unfortunately), Martha decides that this is the life she was meant to live.

“Ooh, he was fit!”

Martha drags her head to the side, lethargic from the waning heat of the setting sun, and raises an eyebrow. “Look but don’t touch, dear, that’s the rule.”

Jack Harkness winks back at her. “Of course, darling.”

“He was fit though,” Martha admits.

“Shall we go inside?” Jack suggests. “I think I saw him walk toward the bar.”

Martha sighs, enjoying the last few moments in the weak sunlight, before she sits up. Jack is already on his feet, ready to help her tie on her sarong and cop a gentle feel as he does so. Martha gives him a look, and he pulls her close for a quick kiss before they head to the lounge beside the upper deck’s pool area.

Jack keeps an arm around her as they walk, and his hand is warm even on Martha’s sun-heated skin. She knows it’s just for their cover as a married couple, but leaning into Jack feels so good, and when he tightens his grip she knows he feels the same.

Inside, they find a table with a view of their mark’s seat and are quickly approached by a waitress. Jack wastes no time charging a hefty sum in appetizers to the Torchwood account, and Martha can’t hold back from smiling at him when he takes her hand over the table.

“You going to be in trouble with your creditors after this?” she asks semi-seriously.

“You can’t possibly spend too much on a beautiful woman,” Jack declares, bringing her hand up to kiss. Martha giggles, then laughs outright when Jack’s face twists after he glances at their mark’s companion, whose neon pink dress looks like it was painted on.

“Have we got what we needed?”

Jack takes out a device from the pocket of his trunks that looks like a simple mobile. After poking a few buttons, he nods. “The bug you planted has recorded him meeting with two potential buyers for the Lemurian mind troggles that got stolen from the crash site.”

“Should we bring him in, then?” Martha pushes her chair back, but Jack catches her arm.

“Woah there. We’ve got food on the way, music in the air,” he waves to the jazz band about to start a set at the front of the lounge, “and we’re paid through til tomorrow. Where’s the rush?”

Martha hesitates. Basic mission planning says to arrest their suspect as soon as feasible, to make sure he doesn’t have a chance to get away. On the other hand…

“We can track him, yeah?” Jack nods, hopeful gaze intent on Martha’s words. That feels nice. She pretends to consider for another few seconds. “Well… I suppose it can wait just a few minutes.”

Jack smiles like he knows what she’s doing, but doesn’t mind. His hand on her arm slides down to her wrist, where it remains until the food comes.

While they eat, they trade stories about strange artifacts they’ve come across and the hijinks their colleagues get up to, about Martha’s family and the various people Jack’s known through his long life. They mention their time with the Doctor, once each, but don’t speak about the man himself at all.

That’s new in itself. Most people who know that Martha was a Companion (a position whose political currency she didn’t understand for years afterwards) want to talk about nothing else. Where did they go, what did they did, what’s he like? What he’s like, to be honest, is a prat, a hyperactive babbling arse sometimes, but a good person and a hero. And Jack knows that, and like Martha, has been the recipient both of the Doctor’s heavy regard and the sharp cut of his indifference.

And he laughs when Martha talks about what a time she had trying to renew her passport after UNIT’s interference.

By the time they finish the huge meal Jack ordered, Martha feels as light as though she’d been drinking wine. She and Jack are leaning close together over the table as they speak, fingers intertwined, and although it’s been a while since Martha looked over at their target, she knows Jack will have been keeping an eye on. It’s a warm feeling, the knowledge that she’s with someone who can and will cover her back, who knows the things that go bump in the night and is just as competent as Martha herself- perhaps even more so- to fight them. And, he’s also her friend, a total riot, and decisively more handsome than any of the waiters around.

The moon is out, shining into the lounge, and it casts Jack’s face in a cool, pale light. It reflects off his eyes, and that must be why they’re shining into Martha’s. He stands up, still holding her hand, and Martha follows him onto the dance floor without a word, trusting that he knows where he’s taking them.

They’ve arrived in the middle of a song, and Martha’s no dancer, but Jack takes her in his arms and it’s nothing but the easiest thing to let him sway them about. It only takes her a minute to get the hang of it, and then they’re moving in unison, reading each others’ smallest twitch. It feels like the simplest continuation when the music ends, when they pause, to slip her hand into Jack’s hair and tug him down for a kiss.

People are applauding around them, but Martha and Jack are still at the center of the floor, wrapped together in easy harmony. Martha caresses Jack’s cheek and he squeezes her hip, and when they break apart she tilts their forehead together to look at him from as close as possible.

“Martha Jones,” he murmurs, blue eyes glowing. “I must have done something really good in a past life.”

“Keep doing it,” Martha shoots back, unable to hold back a smile.

Simple delight lights Jack’s face, and he kisses her again, until the band strikes up the next song. He glances over her shoulder quickly, and a note of seriousness comes into his expression. “I think he’s making a run for it.”

Martha tightens her hand in Jack’s, adrenaline starting that delicious feeling in her muscles, the one that says, ‘Run!’

“Guess we’d better stop him, then,” she says daringly.

Jack looks down at her and a grin grows on his face. “I’ll race you,” he taunts playfully.

“You’ll lose,” Martha retorts, matching him with a devilish smirk.

And then they’re off.


End file.
